Fool Me Once
by Hinterlands
Summary: He smiled down at her; her ears still rang with Elayne's voice- unmistakably Elayne's, that chime and even rhythm, the calculated carelessness of speech- and she closed her eyes again as he ducked his head to steal a kiss, knotting her fingers in his hair, her throat raw with swallowed tears. It was enough to pretend. It had to be.


She could still feel the warm, wet circle of his mouth against her shoulder, the gentle scraping of blunt teeth just so against pale skin. She shuddered, then, half in pleasure and half in wonder- when had she agreed to this? To being marked as some sort of proof of possession, like he was dotting her very heart with pale purple bruises, not merely the taut skin of her shoulders- he was meticulous enough to give the impression, attending to every inch of what she allowed him. She'd pressed an inch closer, enough to feel the deep, steady thrum of his heart reflected in her own chest, hoping to share in the ritual, glean his pleasure- and he said it.

"I love you," he murmured, soft and thready with his elevated breathing, barely more than a whisper against the shallow crescent moon of tooth-marks. She seized, then. It wasn't as if he hadn't admitted to it before- she'd answered him with an echo every time, sounding less sure with every repetition- but it twisted her innards to hear the sincerity stressed against each syllable.

"I love you," he repeated, taking no notice of her hesitation- how long had she been frozen there, rabbitlike?- cupping her cheek in one hand and lifting his face from its place slotted against the narrow strip of skin where shoulder met neck. Her lips twitched- say it back- and his smile crumbled at the edges.

"I love you too," she managed in reply, cheeks tinting a vivid pink. The smile returned- he thinks I'm only shy- and he buried his face in her neck again, his breath hot against her neck, never mind the public setting. His teeth slid against the hollow of her neck- don't think- and her eyes had lidded, closed. His mouth was soft, she noted, and her hand tangled in strands of red-gold hair without her consent, stroking and twisting. She shifted, pressed herself against a waiting knee. The sweet sting of a deeper bite arose and she pressed herself into a patient, unmoving chest- was he always so shapely, so curved?- and her fingers snagged mats of tangled hair.

"Egwene?"

Her eyelids flickered; the voice was softer, higher pitched, an undercurrent of authority sending shivers up her spine. Supple arms curved around her, drawing her closer. Warm breath misted over her cheek, playful, and Egwene's eyelids flickered in momentary confusion, head fogged by the heat of the other's body. Hadn't Elayne always shared a breathy, bemused giggle with her over the very concept of pillow-friends- hadn't she always merely smiled and shaken her head indulgently for Egwene's musings about the female form? Gentle teeth nipped her ear, giving her to jolt. Stay in the moment, stay in the pleasure.

A questioning hand curved against her back- yes, she stuttered as much with her hips as her mouth, yes, I want this, you, and that insistent knee pressed ever-upward- and her mind drifted back to nights in the Novice quarters, eager mouths pressed to the hole bored into the thick wood separating their chambers; her knees digging into the sparse mattress, keeping up an undercurrent of chatter while she admired Elayne's eyes through the aperture, those wonderfully sea-deep eyes…

Elayne had never read deeper into Egwene's smiles- verging on coy, always, wet behind the ears and unsure of how to signal her wants, this wasn't like Rand, she wasn't- and the sparse minutes they'd had in between scrubbing floors and dashing through corridors, leaned against one or the other's bed, Egwene splayed on her belly over the mattress, running her fingers through that cascading golden hair while Elayne filled the air with her musical voice- she could have kissed her, then, a thousand times over. If she knew, she hadn't been interested. That stung her. Why now?

Fingers curled against her lower back, hips moving imperceptibly, enough to maintain a façade of decency, enough to tease- why now? Elayne's soft, ragged breathing, the eager pounding of her heart-

-a tap on her shoulder brought her back to reality; Gawyn's angular face filled her view, pointed towards the round-faced innkeeper, his hand still poised to deliver another reprimanding tap.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a room?" was directed between them; Gawyn flushed crimson; she straightened, smoothing out her skirts and giving nothing more than a calculated huff, sliding deftly from Gawyn's knee into his lap. A moment more of joint staring- the innkeeper's raised brows only rising higher- and they were alone again, swallowed by the crowd.

He smiled down at her; her ears still rang with Elayne's voice- unmistakably Elayne's, that chime and even rhythm, the calculated carelessness of speech- and she closed her eyes again as he ducked his head to steal a kiss, knotting her fingers in his hair, her throat raw with swallowed tears.

It was enough to pretend. It had to be.


End file.
